Pliers
by Ree-Vance
Summary: COMPLETE. Her scissors were just too small. WARNING: Rape mentioned.


Pliers

_9-16-2012_

"_Her scissors were too small."_

Kuonji. That name sent Natsume into a spell of whirling and angry emotions. Kuonji. The name of the man who stole his precious flower away from him. It was a doomed relationship from the start anyway. Whenever he asked about her past she would tell him that she had exes, as any 26 year old did, but she never called him an ex. No, he was always 'Kuonji'. He figured that maybe this Kuonji was a friend of hers' even though they broke up. No. It wasn't just that. The reason Natsume could never have Mikan was because Kuonji never let go of her. If Mikan was a wall, Kuonji was always painting his color on her and over Natsume's oh so small splotches here and there.

He didn't understand. Whenever she tried to explain he just wouldn't listen. You broke my heart, she'd text him. You abandoned me, she's email him. You hurt me, she'd say in a call. But to his face? To his handsome face with piercing black eyes and taunting smirk? She could only say, I'm over it. Her heart was an emotional teenager inside her body. It hated her so much. Why can't we ever say no, it would wail. She felt sick of herself. She was a gross little flower who wasn't strong enough to say no to the only man she thought she loved. Any new boy she felt sick of. Sick of their innocent love for her. Why was she still trapped in Kuonji's web? Her pair of scissors was too small to cut the wire cords around her heart.

He loved her so damn much. That's what he would tell himself before he fell asleep and before he would brush his teeth. In reality she was something he was scared to let go of. Mikan was his only friend in the big bad world. She was the only girl to ever show him that there are sparks of sunlight in a rainstorm. If some man ever took her away from him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. How could he ever look at another woman and expect her to love him back? He just couldn't. It broke his heart to hurt Mikan so much, but letting go would kill them both.

The second he deleted her number, he felt numb. It was a bad idea. He should have fought harder for his prize. He should have went into the next chamber to fight the boss, but his stamina was running low and he hadn't saved before. It was too risky to go into the last room. He knew that on the other side of the door was something he should be afraid of, but there was also Mikan. The only girl he knew he would ever want to be with him on a couch during a Saturday night when they were sixty-five. With the phone number now gone, he would never know. The door was gone. He worked so hard, he went through so many labyrinths to get all the maps and keys to locked doors. Natsume didn't know if he could start over, but going forward was just deleted off his contacts.

She felt as if she was drowning. He wasn't going to the park anymore. She would sit there for hours with two coffee cups that went cold four hours ago. Mikan would sit on their bench with his black coffee and her mocha frappe, every day since Natsume had told her that this was their spot. After the fourth call from Kuonji, she began to believe that he wouldn't show up. That all this waiting was for a knight that would never show up. The princess should just calmly climb back into her tower and be with her dragon. Mikan wasn't a princess though. She sat there staring blankly at where he would usually strut up to her from. His black car would roll to a stop. He would climb out slowly in his white wife beater and black leather jacket. His blue jeans would sage casually, but not enough to show his navy boxers. A tan hand would carefully push his sunglasses out of his black locks and red eyes. Then, he would smirk.

Kuonji wasn't dumb. He knew that this Natsume was a threat to his fragile life. He was all Mikan would talk about. When she came home for the day she would smell like coffee and gasoline. Her face would be flush and her lips, he noted, would be in the biggest smile he had seen on her. Then, after her rant, she would guiltily ask him what he had been doing all day. If he was an honest man, he would tell her about how he was out looking for her after his scare of not waking up next to her. Kuonji wasn't honest. He would smile casually and tell her about this Italian woman he met at a bar and brought back here. He would tell her how she might have passed her on the stairs. He knew Natsume was a threat the second Mikan smiled and told him how nice that was that he made a friend. Gone were the hurt looks and nervous chatter about what kind of person this Sonia was. She made him raving mad. How could she had been so innocent about what taking people back to bed meant? Not anymore he decided.

It was obvious that something had happened. He just didn't know what, if he did it might have broke the melted puddle that was his heart. One day, Mikan wasn't at their spot. Instead, she was standing right in the middle of where he usually parked his car. Cautiously he climbed out and walked over to her. Any attempt he made to look into her eyes would be avoided. Any touch recoiled from. Any observant glances at what skin she was showing would be turned away from with a disbelieving look. So he didn't ask. He didn't look. He didn't touch. Looking back on that day, now five years ago- he should have asked. He should have looked. He should have touched. Why didn't Natsume demand to know what her problem was? Why did she look so scared- so broken? Maybe if he did, he would be happy right now. Maybe if he did, he wouldn't be looking out of his car's window staring at the young woman sitting on a bench longingly.

She knew he was there. She knew that the second she opened the door, last night would come flooded back to her in a painful way. Last night, she didn't want to remember. She trusted him so much. What harm could sitting on a bed with him do? They were best friends. No. No. No! She wanted to scream, but something inside her whispered "didn't we always want him to love us?". That had been years ago- where she believed that Kuonji could love her. Last night was not love. It was far far away from love. His voice coaxed her into opening the door. She wasn't even sure how it happened. Next thing she knew he was on top of her. He was below her. He was on her side. He was everywhere, inside and out. She couldn't breath but he wouldn't stop. Then, he was gone. Just like last night he left in such an extreme hurry that she even thought that maybe what had happened was a dream. But it wasn't. Nothing had been a dream.

He disgusted himself. He didn't know what inside him made him push Mikan onto the bed. What made him tell her that whatever he was doing was normal. What made him lock her in that room so she couldn't leave. He just didn't know. Kuonji heard her cry the next morning and felt like he should jump out their window. She was just so . . . beautiful. All she could think about in those moments, were him. No Natsume. No Ruka. No Tsubasa. No Yuu, just him. Kuonji. Then he remembered what he was doing exactly. So yes, he took a shot. Then another. Then another. He took one for every time he slapped her. Every time he broke a promise. Every time he made her break up with someone. Every time he lied to her about his feelings towards her. Every. Single. Time. Yes, Luna was attractive. In the pub's lighting she looked a little like Mikan. With both of his eyes closed she did. He just, had no idea. What one night could do to someone.

The last time Natsume had spoken to her, it was late at night. She was drunk. He was getting there. He hadn't meant to talk to her really, or even see her- but they somehow found each other in a club that he knew she never went to. The bathroom was his ideal place to confess all his pented up feelings for the flower, but it would do in his intoxicated state. Things were happening like they were supposed to, until he touched a little below the hem line. Her panicked cry of begging him to stop, repeatedly crying out Kuonji's name, and finally curling into a little ball made his heart break. She called him Kuonji. So he left. He left the stall. The bathroom. The club. The street. The town. The city. The province. He just, left. If he wasn't drunk- he could have seen that Kuonji had hurt her in a way he could never imagine. But, he was, and all he knew was that she called him Kuonji.

She didn't know what happened. In one night, two men had left her all alone. In the club, Natsume was gone. At home, Kuonji was gone. The only thing she had left was a small note on the table that read 'I messed up.'. She didn't know how to feel. What to say, how to even move. Kuonji's things were gone from their flat. Natsume's car wasn't in her grocer's parking lot. Kuonji's name was gone from her recent calls. Natsume was gone from her emails. Kuonji was gone from her late night ghost scares. Natsume was gone from her impromtu visits to the deli. He was gone, both of them. All she could do was cry. She had nothing. Natsume was her future, and Kuonji made sure she didn't have a past. There was nothing she could do. No one she could talk to. Her parents' were dead since birth, any friends she had gave up on saving her. Not even plants would grow anymore. She was gone too.

He, didn't really mean to leave her, but he did anyway. He knew he fucked things up big time. Luna was pregnant. It was his. Mikan didn't know about Luna. On paper, Mikan was the only girl he had ever experienced like that before. Now there was two. The latter never intending on letting him go. So he left Mikan, and joined Luna before he would have to explain things to her. He knew it would break her heart. It wasn't a new feeling to him. He could get used to Luna. She was like Mikan, he noted. He was her first as well, she had gone through a tough year and needed to kick back. This time, he told himself, he wouldn't mess things up with a beautiful girl. He knew that he could never fix Mikan.

But, what all three didn't know was Natsume's scissors were waiting for him on that bench; Mikan's heart was bound by paper strings; Kuonji's paint was just Expo marker. None of them had the guts to try and see what could happen when you find a wire cord and a pair of pliers.

**A/N I tried to end this happily. Really, I did. But it just sounded so wrong. If this gets enough positive feedback I guess I could try and make this end happily. So, eh, drop a comment ne? XD**

**-Ree**


End file.
